Chapter Text
She has the most awful dreams, Keyleth does. Every morning she wakes up in a pool of sweat, sometimes her room blown about as if she used her powers in her sleep. She never remembers much, the dreams always evaporate like water in the sun. But there’s always one small detail stuck in her mind no matter how long since her waking: a boy and a girl with identical faces dying for each other over and over again.
“They aren’t just dreams, my love,” her mother said one morning. Keyleth sat in her mother’s lap, attempting to put out a candle with her air manipulation. “They’re visions.”
“Visions of what?” The candle went out but it knocked over. Keyleth frowned. “Too strong.”
Vilya stroked her daughter’s hair. “Dial it back, dear. Air manipulation is about control, not strength. The visions aren’t the future, they’re possibilities. Those children, the boy and the girl, you can change their fate.”
“How?” Keyleth turned back to her mother. “I don’t remember what they look like.” A few tears began pinprick around her eyes. “What if they die and it’s my fault?”
“Whatever happens, it would not be your fault. Fate may tie you together, but that doesn’t mean whatever happens is your fault.”
A knock sounded at the door, Korrin poked his head through. “Vilya, it’s time.”
“Of course, Headmaster.” She bowed her head. “Keyleth, could you please head to your room for a moment?”
She hid behind the door, ear pressed close and eyes closed as she strained to hear.
“I don’t think you’re ready for this. Maybe another couple years of training, your basic water manipulation could use a little work. Keyleth needs you here as well.”
“Korrin, you said that to me three years ago, and I listened. I am ready.” Daring to open her eyes, she peaked through the crack in the door. Keyleth watch her mother reach for her father’s hand. “I have to do this. You’ve taught me well, Headmaster,” she said, smiling. She reached up and gently kissed his cheek. “You are a great teacher.”
“And you are a great student.”
“Please, believe me when I can do this.” She touched the Tempest’s burn, a flare of red skin and a lasting impression of his own journey. A single tear fell to the floor as he spoke. “I do, but that doesn’t mean I won’t worry. Many a worthy student have been lost to the Aramente. I may lose you, or Keyleth to it.”
Keyleth let out a little gasp, she was going to do the Aramente?
Her parents looked towards the door. “Keyleth, please come here,” her father called. He sighed, rubbing his forhead. Keyleth poked her head out from her hidding spot as Korrin beckoned her forward. “What did you hear?” Her eyes went immediately to the floor. “Everything?” She nodded meekly.
She looked up at her mother. “Do you really have to go?”
“Yes, dear.” Vilya reached out to stroke her hair. “It’s part of my training, and one day you’ll complete your own Aramente.” She cupped her chin. “You’re going to be the greatest of us.”
“But what if you never come back?”
“Darling girl.” Her mother pulled her close, arms holding her tight. “I will always be with you, no matter what, as are all the Headmasters before us.” A spring breeze entered the room, filling the space with warmth and the scent of flowers. All of them relaxed for a moment, taking in the feeling. “No matter what I will be there to guide you.”
“Vilya, the rites must be given before you go,” Korrin said, voice steely and cold. Keyleth knew he was doing it to feel like he had some control in the situation. He stood, gesturing to the door. “Come with me.”
“One more moment, Korrin.” She gave him a last kiss, quick and chaste, but enough to show her love for him. “I will meet you outside, Headmaster.” She waited until he left to pull a spool of red thread. “Keyleth, give me your hand.” The young girl held out her arm for her mother. Vilya tied a small knot over her wrist before tying a similiar one on her own. “Whenever you look at this, remember that I’m with you.” She pressed a kiss into her daughter’s forhead. “No matter what, I will be with you.” Now she was crying, the tears catching on her eyelashes. “And maybe you’ll find it in yourself to forgive me for this.”
“What do you mean?”
With tears in her eyes, she held her daughter one last time. “One day, you’ll understand.”
Another member of her mother’s class entered their home, holding out a light blue robe and leather satchel. “Vilya, successor of Headmaster Korrin of the Air Ashari, are you prepared to go forth and complete the required Aramente?”
Her mother stood, all confidence and strength. “I am.”
The druid bowed his head. “Please take the last offering of the Air Ashari for your journey.”
Vilya took the items, hugging them to her chest. “Thank you, Reynaas.” She took a deep breath. “I love you, Keyleth.” And she stepped into the light.
Far away in Syngorn, the Ambassador sat up in his marital bed, pulling the furs close to his chest. Tomorrow was important to his future standing within the city, though the thought of it made him feel ill. He scowled at the thought of the events to tale place tomorrow. His wife stood at the edge of the bed, her amber hair falling to her waist.
“Worried about tomorrow, dearest?” Though she used an endearment, her voice was cold. She hated the idea more than him. His bastard children, evidence to a long regretted affair, were coming to live with him. She sat at the edge of the bed, brushing her hair.
He curled his lip. Politically, this was the right choice. As a couple, they were not able to sire children yet, and now not only does he have an heir but two, well an heir and a bargaining chip, a boy and a girl, albeit half-breeds. He sneered at the thought. Both children were to live with them, though he would have preferred if it was just the boy. The girl could have her uses.
He looked at his wife. Their marriage had been an arranged one, and while there was mutual respect, there was no real fondness for one another. It was agreed that at least once a month they would attempt at an act of conception, as well as sleep next to each other, but other than that, and a few public displays of “affection” the Ambassador and his wife remained separate in most forms of physical intimacy. It was easier that way, as they both had their separate duties and responsibilities to think about.
His wife got on her knees to pray, and he joined her, offering a silent prayer of regret. “The gods have cursed me,” he whispered as he finished.
Light fingers touched his face, drawing a line on his cheek bones. “Say that and they may curse you more.” She stood, offering a hand to him. “Lie with me.”
He stared at her strangely, never had she asked for this outright before. There was no pomp and circumstance, no other words exchanged. He nodded, removing his nightshirt and undergarments.
The boy clung to his sister tightly, gripping her tightly every time the wagon hit a bump. Their mother had sent them away.
“Do you not want us anymore?” his sister asked. “Is it because…” she trailed off and pointed to her ears, bright blue eyes rimmed with red.
“No, my darling,” their mother said, holding her children close. Vax could hear her heart shuttering in her chest. “I’m sending you there because I love you too much.” His sister went to sleep in their mother’s bed that night, clutching the blankets as she tossed and turn. Their mother stayed up all night, stroking her hair and whispering soothing words.
“Take care of her, Vax’ildan.”
The boy nodded solemnly.
He was keeping his promise, holding his sister’s hand as they rode the cart to their father’s city.
“What is he like?” He had asked the night before. He could not sleep, plagued by nightmares and endless thoughts, his sister nestled into his side.
“When I knew him, he was brave and good. He helped me once or twice,” she answered. She braided a black feather into his hair, letting it fall against his face. She smiled at him, her dark eyes watery.
“Did you love him?”
Their mother nodded, though sad. “I did, I do, but what’s a few weeks to an elf. They live so long, too long to love a human.”
Now a card reading “Syldor Vessar” was pinned to the front of his cloak. He felt like property, the way the wagon party treated them, giving the siblings scraps left over from their own meals. He couldn’t tell whether it was because they were half-elves, or that they were children without a parent and therefore easily taken advantage of. Either way he didn’t like it. He scowled.
“Are we there yet?” his sister whined.
He rolled his eyes in annoyance. “Obviously not, Vex.” He tried his best not to be annoyed with her, they were twins after all, but it was hard not to think of himself as the older brother and her the little sister.
“Are we at least close?”
“Why don’t you ask the wagon leader?”
Vex’ahlia recoiled. The wagon leader had hit her for trying to get an apple the previous night, leaving a slight bruise on her cheek and a cut at the corner of her mouth. She muttered some obscenities under her breath, making Vax laugh. “Hopefully soon.”
The wagon took another stop.
"Knife ears! Out!" The large wagon leader roughly grabbed Vex by the elbow, pulling her off the wagon.
"Get off her!" Vax screamed, hitting the man with his fist. He tried to sound strong, but his voice squeaked. Another man, the leader's brother, picked him up by the scruff of his neck, throwing him out the back. He landed in the dirt with a thud, his knee slamming against the ground. Vex tried to kick the man, only to be shoved next to her brother. He quickly stood up, pushing Vex behind him and gritting his teeth.
"This is your stop, bastards."
Both Vex and Vax looked around, they were in the middle of the wood, the only sound heard was the whining of the horses and a raven fluttering its wings in a nearby tree. "This isn't Syngorn," Vax spat. His grip on Vex tightened.
The leader laughed gruffly. "Well that's where we fucking are. Welcome to the great city of Syngorn." He gave a mocking bow, chuckling as he did. "That's as much as your whore mother paid us. Maybe she got tired of taking care of you half-breeds."
"My mother was a seamstress, son of a bitch." Vax rush forward, hands curled into fist, only to be tripped by the man, falling at his feet. The man put his foot on his back, keeping the young boy from getting up, laughing as he struggled under the weight.
"Vax!" Vex's voice quivered; she shook violently. "Please, leave him alone," she sobbed.
The man let out a last laugh, kicking Vax slightly. "Get up, boy." Vax stood, tears in his eyes. The man slapped him across the cheek, the ring on his finger cutting his cheek. "That will teach you to listen to your elders." He got back into the wagon, throwing the bag carrying their meager belongings at their feet. The wagon wheels kicked up dust as the party continued on without them.
Vex hugged her brother, using the edge of her sleeve to mop up the blood from his cheek. He had closed his eyes, Vex knowing that he was trying not to cry. "It's okay," she said. "We still match." She pointed to her own bruised cheek.
They held hands, staring into the woods.
"Together?" she asked.
He squeezed her hand. "Always."